Hinata's Off Button: The Guys Call for Help
by RandomViolets
Summary: Tanaka gives Hinata a coffee, and the team deals with the consequences. Sometimes a higher power is needed. A/N I've turned this into a one-shot series, mostly revolving around Hinata-centric stories. Some of them are a little angst-y but not too much.
1. Chapter 1

Hinata's off Button (The guys call for help)

(I do not own Haikyuu! If I did a lot more ships would have sailed.)

 **Author's Note: This is my first fanfiction I've put online. Constructive criticism is welcome, and appreciated. Please don't flame, I know it's not great, and some characters are probably OOC, sorry.**

Karasuno High, 8 pm: It would have been amusing if it were almost anyone else, and it was amusing, for a while. Sugawara and Daichi looked on in mild worry at Hinata as he bounced on his heels around Nishinoya. A weary Tanaka heaved a breath, and sat down next to them.

"He's not showing any signs of slowing down, is he?" Suga asked worriedly. Kageyama groaned in exhaustion and glared at Tanaka.

"This is all your fault," the setter muttered, exhaustion making his threat fall flat.

Tanaka winced and sighed, "Yeah, I know, I'm sorry. I swear I had no idea it would affect him like this. Seriously, I know coffee makes some people hyper, but this is just nuts…"

Daichi stared at Asahi in sympathy as the taller man slumped to the ground and leaned on the end of the bench next to him. "New rule," the captain muttered to his teammates, "Never, under any circumstances, do we allow Shouyou Hinata to consume caffeine again."

"Here here," They muttered in unison.

Hinata had been a bit tired at the beginning of practice due to studying late for an exam. Tanaka, in a moment of "brilliance" had decided that it would be a good idea for the normally hyper First year to consume an energy drink, claiming that it could make him into a kind of secret weapon. That was about three o'clock, when practice had started. That "brilliance", had backfired. Hinata was not only energized; he was bouncing off the walls. He couldn't even keep still enough to practice. He was actually running laps around the court while screaming. For hours.

The guys had tried to chase him, corner him, and calm him down repeatedly. All of their efforts had failed. By five o'clock half the team had given up and begun to watch the spectacle tiredly from the sidelines. Tsukkishima had tired enough that he didn't even bother to hurl his usual acerbic comments. He just watched.

By seven the only guys left chasing Hinata (who still showed no signs of tiring), were Kageyama, Asahi, Tanaka, and Nishinoya. Now, at eight o'clock, even Nishinoya, the only person they knew with more energy than Hinata, was looking dead on his feet.

"Oi," he called over, blonde streak in his hair stuck flat to his forehead with sweat, "I don't think we can handle this. I'm beat, and caffeine is supposed to work for an average of twelve hours, isn't it? It's only been five and even I'm about dead here."

"He's got a point," Tsukkishima muttered tiredly from the wall he and Yamaguchi were slumped against, "But what can we do? We can't even corral him."

They all stared blankly at Hinata, who was once again trying to _scale the padded wall_.

Sugawara sighed, "Hey, Tsukki, can you lend me your phone a minute?"

The younger blond raised his eyebrow, but tossed the device as requested. "Who are you calling?" he asked.

The older teen sighed, "Hinata's Mom."

They stared at him in a surprised, and _why-didn't-we-think-of-that-earlier_ kind of way as he dialed, and waited.

"Ah, hello Natsu? This is Sugawara, one of your brother's teammates. Is your mom home? Yes, thank you." The Third year conversed politely with the younger girl before falling silent a minute, waiting for her to fetch her mother. He straightened up after a moment, "Mrs. Hinata? Yes, I'm sorry about the call, I understand it's a bit late-" He stopped a moment, listening. "Oh, no, no, Hinata is fine. No injuries." He laughed. "Well, you see, we have a bit of a dilemma. One of our teammates gave him an energy drink earlier, and-" He listened again. "Oh, this has happened before then?" A few minutes later, and faint laughter from the phone told them that, yes, this _had_ happened before. Suga laughed quietly along with whatever story the woman was regaling him with. "Well, glad to know it's not something too serious, but is there any chance you know how to make him calm down a bit?" He paused again, "About five hours." Pause. "Yes, he has. He's been outrunning the whole team all day." He paused, listening, before his eyes widened comically. "You're kidding." He deadpanned, eyes showing clear disbelief. "That's it?" Pause. "Ok, thank you, we'll do that. I'll make sure one of us gets him home after that. If you could give me the address?" Pause, and some scribbling on a slip of paper. "Ah, thank you. We'll get him home soon. Thank you for your help Mrs. Hinata. Have a good evening."

Sugawara stared at the phone and shook his head in amazement.

"Please tell me there's hope." Daichi begged.

"There is, if we can catch him." Suga soothed. "Tsukki, Tanaka, Asahi, I'm sorry, but I'm going to need you guys for this. You are the tallest ones here right now. Of those of us still conscious."

The teens groaned, but slowly got up. "Alright, what to we have to do?" Tanaka asked.

Suga looked the second year dead in the eye, "Pick him up."

There was a moment of collective staring. "…What?" Tsukkishima articulated.

Suga sighed, "Pick him up," he repeated, "Like picking up a lion cub. Pick him up under the arms, don't let his feet touch the floor, and hold him there for a bit. His mom says that no matter how hyped up he is, caffeine or otherwise, it never fails to put him to sleep."

They stared at him some more, Daichi and Kageyama looking at him with utter incredulity. "…That's…..That's all we have to do? Pick him up?" Asahi asked again.

"That's it." Their senior confirmed.

The three turned to look at an exhausted Nishinoya, who was pulling Hinata down from the wall he had scaled.

"Oi, Noya." Asahi called.

"Yeah?" The shorter male replied distractedly.

"Hold Hinata there a sec. I think we have a solution. Tanaka's gonna take care of it." The longhaired male replied.

The usually overzealous Libero raised an eyebrow, but grabbed the back of the redhead's shirt, and held him in place tiredly.

Tanaka strode over quickly, shook his head in disbelief, and picked the younger boy up under the armpits. Nishinoya gave him a look that clearly read 'what the fuck?'

The team stirred, and starred at their squirming spiker. Thirty seconds later, the squirming lessened. The team watched apprehensively. At forty-five seconds, the redhead was still, and staring owlishly at Nishinoya, as if he couldn't comprehend what was happening. At one minute, he started blinking rapidly eyelids fluttering open and shut, each time taking longer and longer to open. Everyone was awake now, and staring slack-jawed at the scene. Nishinoya stared in utter confusion as the mop of orange hair drooped, then jerked up again, and repeated the process several times.

At one minute thirty, the orange mop drooped, and did not jerk back up. Brown eyes blinked blearily at the floor. At two minutes, his breathing evened out, and his eyes stopped fluttering, opting to close like shutters after a long day.

The gym was dead silent for a few minutes, as all of them tried to comprehend what had just happened.

Sugawara was the one who spoke up, "Tanaka, you can readjust your grip if you need to, but whatever you do, don't let his feet touch the floor. It will turn him back on again." He said quietly, only just loud enough to carry to the unruly boy's ears. "Kageyama, I think you live the closest to Hinata. I'm sorry to ask you this, but since it's on your way, would you mind taking him home?"

"Yeah, I know where it is." He muttered, grabbing his school bag, and his classmate's before walking over to Tanaka, who still held his kouhai like a kitten. The two, and Nishinoya, maneuvered the sleeping boy onto Kageyama's back.

The rest of the gym slowly got back to their feet, and cleaned up as Kageyama left to take Hinata home.

Nishinoya stared at their retreating forms blankly before turning to his dumbfounded teammates, "Oh my god, he has an off switch."


	2. Chapter 2

Maybe Not Alright

 **A/N: This is a random idea I had, I can get some pretty dark ideas sometimes, and this is one of them. I don't really know anything about psychology, so I didn't really give a name to what Hinata is experiencing. Just a kind of warning, could be trigger for some people; Anxiety I guess? Could be seen as PTSD maybe but its not really. But basically warning for dark thoughts and what is probably some sort of psychological disorder I don't know the name of. More or less inspired by listening to Control by Halsey. Completely disconnected from the previous chapter, this is going to be a series of Hinata-centric one-shots. AU where Dumb Hinata is a façade that keeps his darker thoughts at bay, and Kageyama is the only one who knows.**

Shouyou pov: _Breathe._ I thought. _One, two, three. Get it together._

This isn't normal. I know.

I crouch in the bathroom stall, half praying no one will notice that I've been in here for twelve minutes already. Half wishing they would.

My head's on my knees, my nails digging into my shins, breath coming in shallow not-quite-gasps between my chest and thighs.

I choke down the laughter that wants to bubble up from my lungs-because I know what comes out will not sound like the laughter of a teenage guy. It would be uncontrollable, ringing cackles that give away just how much I was _not quite alright._

I didn't know what it was. I's lived with it for years, these sudden…boughts, episodes. Things.

The sudden presence feeling invading my head, the one that whispers things that make me want to vomit and scream and _just get out._ The itch that settles itself over my body, the feeling of something _crawling under my skin_ and it just wont _stop._ The urge to yank out my hair and scream at the top of my lungs and just laugh. Or cry. Or all of the above.

I have to pin my hands to the floor with my feet because the urge to _scratch_ is just _too much_ , and everything is just _too loud_ and yet somehow it not there at all. And somehow, that makes everything worse.

And now I'm biting my shirt because I know that if I bite my tongue or lip I won't stop until its bleeding. That would mean someone _seeing_. No. I'm fine. I can handle this. I have always been fine. Control my breathing. Shove that _goddamn_ _voice_ _thing_ into the back of my head. Smile stupidly. I'm fine. Just don't think. _I think too much._

 _One, two, three_. I'm fine.

Except its not working.

Thirteen minutes.

My chest feels too tight. I cant make it stop. My heart is racing with something familiar that I refuse to recognize. _Fear._

I pant silently through clenched teeth and flaring nostrils, and suddenly I just want to _run._ Because this bathroom that was my sanctuary only seconds ago- _one, two._ -is suddenly suffocating me because now I _cant breathe_ and I just want to _scream._

This shouldn't happen. I'm normal. I am a normal fifteen-year old boy, from a loving household, with supportive parents, and an amazing sister, and- _nothing is wrong_ _._ Right?

Fourteen.

I could go to mom about anything. She's always smiling. Always so kind and gentle and- _she doesn't mean it_ - **Stop.** If I told her- _ha. You'll never say anything._ -she would be sad, and worried, and do whatever she could to help- _but I don't need help. I'm_ _ **fine**_ -. Natsu was probably too little to understand, but she would still try to help however she could- _You want to be the one to tell your baby sister that her brother's not normal?_ _You coward_ **Shut up.**

I had supportive friends and teammates would accept anything- _no they wouldn't._ -.

I'm fine. _No I'm not._

I can handle this. _No I cant._

Fifteen.

I don't need anyone. _Someone help me._

My lungs are burning. _I'm not fine._

Somewhere in the back of my mind I recognize that I've started to hyperventilate.

The door creaks open, and sneaker-clad feet shuffle in.

 _ **Shut up. Don't hear me.**_

 _Someone get help._

They stop outside of my stall.

 _ **No. Go away.**_

 _Please save me._

"Shouyou?" The voice is sudden and calm and like water over a burn.

Suddenly the itch wasn't quite so bad, and the voice wasn't quite so loud, and I could _breathe_.

I shoved the door with my foot in that way I knew would unlatch it and cause the rusty think to swing open- _they should really get that fixed._

Sixteen.

Then there's a shuffle of feet and limbs and a clicking of latches again. A body is pressing against mine and an arm is around my shoulders.

One, two, three. _Breathe._ Inhale, exhale. The pressure starts to leave.

Something is prying my hands from under my sneakers, and rubbing the tread-marks out of the skin.

I can't hear it anymore.

The stall is clearer now-when did it get hazy?

I let go of the shirt between my teeth, letting out a shaky, shuddering breath.

The itch isn't there anymore.

Seventeen.

He doesn't say anything, just presses his nose into my hair and pulls me a bit closer-finally my heart stopped pounding.

My eyes fall shut, and my head raises up from my knees, I let it fall back onto a well-muscled shoulder, feeling the steady breath of the person beside me.

One, two, three. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

My bearings are beginning to come back, numbers and words and all those _things_ that make me think _too much_ and feel _too little_ are carefully slotted away where they belong, under careful lock and key of _I'm-not-going-to-think-about-this-right-now._

Finally, the bought, episode, thing, is gone. I can breathe again.

He hums, the vibrations of his chest getting my attention as much as the sound- and I'm grateful, because I could breathe but I wasn't sure how well- and gets my attention, a silent question written in every movement.

Nineteen.

I just move my hands in his-changing the pattern from rubbing the marks from skin to lacing fingers through fingers. Callouses rough against callouses.

I stop counting.

"Yeah, I'm good Tobio,"

And we both know it's a lie, because I'm not alright, but he wont call me on it. He never does. He knows my ticks, and somehow he knows as much as I do that the use of his name isn't one of panic or persuasion, but of honesty and thanks. It's inconceivable, really, how someone I swore up and down would never, ever, be called a friend, is now the one who knows me so well. The one who I know as well.

Maybe I'm not alright, but we're making it work, because somehow Tobio sends the voices packing, and becomes the calm that I can't create for myself.

People say that he's dense, unobservant, stupid even, to anything that isn't volleyball. And maybe he is-his grades suck as much as mine-but he's not. He's not dense, because he _knows_ when I'm not ok. He's away when I need to keep my distance, and _there_ when I'm on the verge of losing it all. He can see it with only a glance. He doesn't need me to tell him that I just _really need a hug_ or _really need to_ _ **not**_ _be_ _ **touched**_. He sees that I'm not normal. He knows all about my darkness-knows it all too well- and gives me an outlet.

So when we walk together to that spot in the woods that's just off the road sometimes, and he sits me there-and sits with me, even in the rain- and just lets me _let go_ , its not awkward. Despite my laughter turning from loud and obnoxious to sanity-void and empty. He's just there. Not judging, not worried, not asking to help or get help. Just there.

Its inexplicable, unusual and strange. But it was us. And it was probably all that kept me kind of sane(he's always insisted otherwise).

But those words get the point across, and so much more-some that I probably don't even understand, that manages to compute to him in a way that just _explained._ Everything.

He shifts beside me, and pulls me up, unlatching the door again and walking away. I'm still picking myself up when he returns with a damp towel and helps me wipe the sweat and stress from my skin.

Twenty-three minutes.

I plaster that grin onto my face, the one that we both know is so fake and so _not-me-at-all_ , and he gives me the slightest, gentle smile, that just relieves any worries that lingered, and maybe made my smile a little more genuine. He could always tell.

"Well come on bakageyama, we have a match to play don't we?" I say, my voice a little too loud, and a little too cheery, and a little to sharp. Not like anyone else would notice. That's what I always sound like.

He just smiles again, and finds my hand briefly, tugging me forward, and squeezing tightly, dropping it just before the doors swung open with a push of his hand.

I square my shoulders just a little, and force a bounce into my step. Held my head a little higher.

Let's play volleyball.

 **A/N: I'm so mean to the sweetest characters. IDK, Its four in the morning and I've kinda been on an angst kick lately. Hopefully this wasn't too dark for most people. I have a few other story ideas lined up, both for this series, and some other, multi-chapter fics. Might be up before school starts in the fall. Sophmore year begins hell again for me, so updates will be more sporadic than my usual inconsistency. Sorry. This chapter probably made no sense, but its something. Reviews are greatly appreciated, and constructive criticism is very helpful. Thank you for reading!-RandomViolets**


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